


They Have A Lot To Answer For

by undermyskin (heeddaa)



Series: What Happens at Hobbit Con [1]
Category: The Hobbit (2012) RPF
Genre: Drunk Adam, M/M, possessive mark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-15
Updated: 2013-04-15
Packaged: 2017-12-08 15:12:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/762833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heeddaa/pseuds/undermyskin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on Adam's comment during his Hobbit Con panel that Dean and Sylvester had gotten him drunk. Was there perhaps a specific reason for getting Adam so completely wasted?</p>
            </blockquote>





	They Have A Lot To Answer For

Dean moves through the crowd of bodies pressing in around him, trying desperately to keep his beer from being knocked over. The music blasting from the speakers has gone from the Macarena to Gangnam Style, much to Dean’s dismay, and the people around him are dancing and jumping dangerously close to his filled glass. When he gets back behind the protection of the red tape he throws himself down next to Stephen and smashes his glass down on the table.  
‘This has got to stop,’ he shouts over the loud beat.  
‘What are you talking about?’ Stephen questions equally loud, but slightly more slurred. He has already switched from beer to vodka, and colour has started rising on his cheeks. At Stephen’s question they all turn to look at Dean, Jed and John pausing their drinking game, and he points toward the bar.  
‘That.’  
Across the room Graham and Adam are talking with a couple of girls, all clutching drinks and listening to Graham’s story with dazed smiles. And so is Adam. He is staring up at Graham with adoring eyes and when he gets nudged playfully in the side Dean swears he can see the blush from where he’s sitting. They have all seen it before, both on and off set; the two choosing to sit with each other again and again or laughing a bit too enthusiastically at the other’s jokes, but Dean has had enough. 

Peter leans back in the sofa and shrugs.  
‘So he has a crush. You’re the last person who should have a problem with that.’ Dean glares at him and gets a cheeky smile in return.  
‘My problem isn’t the crush, I mean look at them, they’re adorable,’ Dean says and motions toward the bar where Graham is resting a hand on the back of Adam’s chair. ‘My problem is that they need to give up the mooning and get on with the fucking!’ Everyone breaks into laughter, apart of Mark who looks far from amused.  
‘Don’t make me come over there,’ he grumbles and waves a threatening finger at Dean, but he ignores the warning.  
‘Seriously, look at them. They are clearly in love so there is no reason why they shouldn’t be going at it like bunnies.’ He hides behind Stephen for protection but Mark only downs his drink with a dark look on his face. Dean takes a swig of his drink as well, the familiar taste reminding him of home.  
‘They’ll work it out eventually,’ Stephen says with a pat on Dean’s back, but he ignores him as well.  
‘What I need is a plan,’ he muses and everyone groans. Dean looks around the table indignantly; he has great plans. When he attempts to get the fact across, however, it is only met with laughter.  
‘You have terrible plans”’ Jed shouts, consequentially spraying Dean with beer and fluids he did not want to think about going from Jed’s mouth to his own face. Who knows where that has been?  
‘Fuck you all!’ he yells back across the table and then dramatically scoots away from Stephen’s side with his glass cradled in his hands to sulk, scheme and get smashed at the same time. Like the multitasker he is. 

The first idea on how to get his friends to admit how in love they are he manages to produce is to just push one of them onto the other. Hopefully Graham would then catch Adam in a romantic dip or their lips would just land on top of each other. Either would do. But this would require perfect timing and perfect aim, and since Dean has neither he scraps idea number one. The second idea is to convince Graham to just lay one on Adam, preferably out of sight of the drunken fans – Twitter does not need to see that. But Graham, being such a pleasant and delightful bastard, would most likely not do anything unless he was sure that Adam felt the same way. He probably wouldn’t want to “impose” or make Adam feel “uncomfortable”. Some people, honestly. So plan number two is abandoned as well. But, Dean considers as he sips his beer, this means that the initiative would have to come from Adam, which means that he would have to convince Adam to tell Graham how he feels about him, which means that Adam needs to become, well, less like Adam. 

‘I have it’ he declares, taking the last of his drink in one gulp and turning back to his friends. He mimics spreading out a battle plan on the table, only just avoiding knocking over Sylvester’s glass in his excitement.  
‘Tonight,’ he continues, ‘we’ll get Adam properly wasted, think London premiere minus suits, and then when his defenses are down we get him to profess his love. And then we run before they start making out because no.’ He looks hopefully at Jed, who rarely turns down a chance to match-make or get drunk, but he looks skeptical.  
‘I don’t know man. Not sure if I want him getting drunk in a different country filled with equally drunk teenage girls and crazy drivers.’  
‘I definitely don’t want that,’ Mark adds with another glare in Dean’s direction, and Dean throws his arms up in the air in frustration.  
‘When did you turn into an old woman like Mark?’ he asks Jed and then proceeds to duck when Mark swats at him. Jed laughs but shakes his head nonetheless.  
‘Sorry mate, but I’m with the lady on this one.’ Dean attempts his best puppy dog-eyes but Jed is resilient, two years of practice having apparently made him immune. He looks around the group pleadingly.  
‘Stephen? John?’ he asks but they both decline. ‘Please?’  
‘Oh no, don’t give me that look!’ Stephen whines, covering his own eyes dramatically.  
‘What look?’ Dean asks in confusion. He doesn’t have a look.  
‘That ‘if Aidan were here he would do it”-look,’ Stephen says from beneath his hands. ‘I fucking hate it.’ There is a pause where Dean considers denying it and giving him the finger, but instead he simply mutters ‘Well, he would have,’ which earns him the last drops of Stephen’s beer being poured on his head.  
‘I’ll help you.’ It’s Sylvester who speaks up and Dean looks up at him with hopeful eyes.  
‘You will?’  
‘Sure,’ he says easily, already rising from the sofa. ‘It’ll be fun.’ He starts toward where Graham and Adam are in conversation alone now, and Dean whoops in victory before running after him. 

The plan will require persuasion, obviously, which means that Graham has to go away for a while until Adam is completely wasted and ready to profess his love. Sylvester declares that he will handle it and pulls Graham out of the bar with him. Dean doesn’t know what the hell he is planning but he decides to trust Sylvester to figure something out. This leaves Dean with alcohol duty, which he is very fine with. He squeezes in between Adam and a girl dressed as Fíli (so freaking weird) and smiles.  
‘Hey man! What are you drinking?’ Adam smiles back and glances only briefly after Graham with a look that Dean interprets as desperate longing.  
‘Nothing yet,’ he says and Dean smacks his hand down on the bar-top with a scandalized expression.  
‘Sober? In Germany? This must be remedied!’ He orders two beers and beams at his friend who laughs at Dean’s excitement. Two tall glasses are placed in front of them and they share a toast for the wonderful invention of German beer.  
‘How was your panel today?’ Adam asks.  
‘Oh, it was great! You’ll love it,’ Dean exclaims. ‘A bit nerve-wrecking I suppose, with all the people, but really cool.’  
‘Well I won’t pull as many people so hopefully it won’t be as terrifying,’ Adam laughs and Dean shakes his head.  
‘I wouldn’t be so sure about that.’ 

Dean fakes a fumble as he swipes the key card to his hotel room and opens the door to let a stumbling and giggling Adam Brown pass through into the darkness. Since Dean had had an important mission to embark on, he had only feigned an alcohol consumption to match the one he had bestowed on his trusting friend. Of course, after Adam had switched to gin instead of beer and started berating the music choices loudly he paid no attention to the fact that Dean’s coke was sans rum. Despite his success in the first part of his master plan however, the night hadn’t gone exactly like Dean had planned. Shortly after the two men had finished their beers, Sylvester had returned and the sea of dancers parted, allowing him some space at the bar next to them. He ordered another round of beer for the three of them and Dean leaned in closer to whisper out of earshot of Adam.  
‘What did you do to him?’ he wondered and Sylvester grinned mischievously.  
‘Mr. McTavish is on his way up to his room to answer an urgent Skype call from a distraught Mr. Nesbitt as we speak,’ he smirked and Dean raised an appreciative eyebrow.  
‘Is there an urgent Skype call waiting?’ he wondered. James rarely uses Skype for important things, preferring the constant availability of the phone. Sylvester laughed heartily.  
‘Of course not!’ He banged his cane up onto the bar, narrowly missing it hitting a girl jumping by in the head, and accepted the full glass of beer that was offered him. ‘But once he has realized that, he’ll call just to make sure, and by then this one will hopefully be drunk.’ He motioned toward Adam who was gulping down his own drink with impressive speed. After that it hadn’t been hard to get the idea across that gin and tonic were the best drinks to ever have been invented and that Adam should totally have one, and then two more, and then a shot of jaeger. Somewhere in the middle of all that Sylvester snuck off to keep Graham occupied elsewhere, and Dean went to work on nestling the love confession out of his slightly swaying mate.  
‘So Adam,’ he started with what he hoped sounded like an air of cool noncommitedness. ‘You and Graham seem really close.’ He had decided to keep it casual, not push unnecessarily but only nudge gently in the right direction. Adam nodded vigorously with the straw from his drink still in his mouth. Dean had to admit that Adam under influence really was the most adorable thing to ever exist and Graham clearly needed to get with that as soon as possible.  
‘He’s wonderful.’ Good, here we go. ‘You’re all wonderful!’ No wait. Adam waved at someone still behind the red tape and Dean heaved a sigh. More alcohol needed. 

Adam falls back on Dean’s bed with a content sigh, but then promptly sits back up again. He looks around the room slowly, his eyes finally landing on Dean who is removing his shoes by the door.  
‘This isn’t my room,’ he states, eyebrows pulled in a confused frown. Dean chuckles and goes to remove Adam’s shoes as well.  
‘No, this is my room. I didn’t want to leave you alone to potentially drown in your own vomit, remember?’ he coaxes, trying very hard to cover the laughter in his voice. When Dean has finally succeeded despite Adam’s attempts to pull his face up and declare him a “good and honest dwarf brother worthy of a long and prosperous beard” Adam falls back on the bed again. Dean goes into the bathroom to brush his teeth and hears a loud thud coming from the larger room. He spits.  
‘Did you fall off the bed?’ he yells and after a pause he hears a muffled ‘Yeah’ in response. Good, not unconscious then. Dean leaves the bathroom again and goes to sit on the bed Adam had fallen from, looking down at the man beside it, stretching out like a cat in the sun.  
‘Hey, Dean?’ he mumbles into the carpet. ‘Do you really think Graham and I look close?’ Good boy, Adam. His attempts at truth time hadn’t gotten him very far in the bar so he is glad that Adam is bringing it up on his own. Adam rolls onto his stomach, seriously wrinkling his shirt in the process, and looks up at Dean with big eyes. He smiles down fondly.  
‘Of course I do. Why do you ask?’ Then he waits while Adam frowns again, then opens his mouth to speak, then closes it, then opens it again, then bites his lip, until his eyes suddenly fill with tears. Oh no. Dean slides down on the floor next to Adam and places a comforting hand on his shoulder.  
‘Hey, what’s wrong?’ he asks, making his voice as kind and drunk-friendly as possible. Adam attempts to sit up and he grabs his arm to help him lean against the bed next to Dean.  
‘It’s just,’ he says, leaning his head back on the bed and voice thick. ‘Sometimes I think we’re really close, like really close. You know?’ Dean hums in confirmation. ‘But then sometimes it’s like he looks at me differently and like he realizes that I’m wrong. Am I wrong, Dean?’ Dean sighs and wraps his arm around Adam’s shoulders. He doesn’t lean into the touch but he seems to relax a little.  
‘You’re not wrong, Adam. Graham doesn’t think so either, he just needs a little help on the way, if you know what I mean.’ Dean waits for a reply, and has just started to think that maybe he made it too complicated for Adam’s liquor-induced brain when Adam looks at him with thoughtful eyes.  
‘Like a push?’ he wonders, and Dean nods again.  
‘Exactly! Go big or go home, right?’ Adam nods with a smile, and then runs to the bathroom to be sick. 

***

When Adam walks in behind stage he is met by loud cheering and applauds. Stephen runs up to give him a bruising high-five and Mark claps him on the back in appreciation.  
‘”How do you handle the horses”,’ Peter laughs from one of the waiting chairs. ‘Genius!’ Adam blushes slightly at all the attention, but shrugs it off lightly.  
‘It was Jed’s idea, really. I only helped with the execution.’ He seats himself in the chair next to Peter and rests his head against the wall. It is still throbbing slightly, but not half as much as it had in the morning. He had woken up still dressed and splayed across one of the beds in Dean’s room, with said man snoring from somewhere beneath the covers in the bed next to his. The coffee in the little machine had been revolting, but it had eased his churning stomach and made the light from the sun streaming through the window a little less blearing. He is still exhausted though; Dean had still been fast asleep when Adam had slipped out to change before his panel so he couldn’t ask him when they got to bed, but if he knew Dean it had been far too late. 

Adam doesn’t realize he’s dosing off until he’s suddenly pulled from his slumber by the roaring applauds from the hall where Graham has apparently just finished his own panel.  
‘You may want to hide.’ He turns to find Peter smirking knowingly at him over a steaming mug of what looks to be the same dishwater coffee he’d forced down that morning. Adam raises an eyebrow in silent question. ‘After your little stunt, you’re dead meat if I know Graham,’ he chuckles. Good point. Adam gets up quickly, but he only makes it halfway to the stage door.  
‘You!’ he hears a growling voice behind him.  
‘Uh oh,’ he mutters, and then he’s off. He ignores the door he had been going for previously and instead turns right into an empty corridor. He can hear the heavy footsteps of Graham behind him quickly catching up; Adam was never a runner, not even much of a walker if he could help it. There’s a fork, and he pauses for just a second to decide on an escape route, but it is one second too much. Suddenly he is grabbed by his arms and pressed against a white-painted wall, not hard, but Graham’s hands remain around his wrists, making any idea of escape futile. His capturer presses in on him, panting and glaring, but Adam can see the corner of his mouth twitch with mirth. He can feel laughter bubble up in his chest himself, but he represses it in favour of staring Graham down. Or up, depending on how you see it.  
‘You little shit,’ Graham says slowly and Adam can almost feel the rumble of his voice where their chests are pressed together. Graham’s eyes lock on to his, and suddenly breathing becomes a little harder as his lungs seem to clench up at the sight of the sparkle in those blue eyes. He swallows thickly but stands his ground.  
‘They said anyone could ask a question,’ he remarks innocently, cocking his head to the side. Adam feels like Graham is surrounding him in every direction, and a slight tilt of the head is all he dares do at the moment. But Graham seems unfazed by their proximity and, if possible, only crowds in closer. He releases one of Adam’s arms and presses an accusing finger against his chest, and he feels as though it may be burning a hole through his t-shirt.  
‘You’re an idiot,’ Graham grumbles, but seems to have given up the pretense of scowling and cracks a lopsided grin that punches Adam in the chest again. He smiles back, however.  
‘Oh am I?’ he questions teasingly and Graham nods ruefully.  
‘Definitely.’ 

They stare at each other and Adam’s mind is starting to spin from their closeness. Graham is just so, right there, and the air between them is so heavy, and for a brief second he thinks he sees the other man’s eyes flicker down to his mouth, but he can’t be sure. He is just about to make an excuse about them returning to their friends before someone starts wondering, when he remembers something through the drunken haze that was the previous night. ‘He just needs a little help on the way, if you know what I mean’ Dean had said, Adam is sure of it. The tip of Graham’s index finger is still scolding his skin, and Adam takes a deep breath, his own eyes glancing down at Graham’s lips almost on their own accord. Go big or go home, right? And then he pushes forward, pressing his lips against Graham’s firmly but carefully. His eyes flutter close and he revels in the warmth of those lips on his. It takes him several seconds to realize that, wait, Graham isn’t actually kissing back; is only standing frigid like a tree, unmoving and unresponsive. Adam can feel a mortified blush rising on his face even before he has pulled himself away, staggering backwards down the hall where they had come.  
The rejection stings, and Dean is an idiot for giving him advice, and Adam is an idiot for listening to him and messing everything up.  
‘I’m so sorry,’ he whispers and curses his shaky voice. The quiet words seem to kick Graham into action, however. He swivels around where Adam left him and takes a few hasty steps in an attempt to follow, but Adam backs away quicker, nearly tripping over himself; a frightened animal on the savannah. Graham stops when he notices, and Adam follows suit when he realizes he isn’t being pursued anymore.  
‘Don’t- don’t apologize,’ Graham stammers, and the tremble in the normally so composed voice sends a painful jolt through Adam.  
‘I’m sorry,’ Adam says anyway. ‘I didn’t mean to screw things up, I promise.’ He stares down at his shoes, too afraid to meet anger, or sadness, or whatever other emotions are swimming in his friend’s (can he call Graham his friend after this) eyes. ‘I thought that… Or I mean, thought that you maybe…’ Damn him and his jumbled, panicky mind. ‘But I was wrong, obviously.’ His right shoe is scuffed, probably from last night. The floor under it is covered by a broadloom, flowery and awful, and reminding Adam of the one in his grandmother’s living room.  
‘You weren’t.’ It takes a moment for him to register what Graham has said, and when he does he finally manages to look up from the floor, confused.  
‘Sorry?’ he asks, and now it is Graham’s turn to avert his gaze. He chooses to stare somewhere above Adam’s left shoulder, but most definitely not at his face. He clears his throat.  
‘You weren’t wrong,’ he continues. ‘I didn’t think you felt that way, but then sometimes I would let myself hope, you know?’ Adam nods silently. ‘But I never allowed myself to truly believe that you would, you know, in that way. I am quite a bit older than you.’ Adam surprises them both by letting out a loud cackle, and quickly slaps a hand over his mouth. When he trusts himself to remove it he looks skeptically up at the man in front of him who at some point that Adam was not aware of has come a lot closer.  
‘What is this?’ he questions. ‘Sense and Sensibility?’ And that has Graham laughing as well, and before they know it they are grabbing at each other through violent giggles. 

Graham leans them both against the wall, and when they come to they have somehow ended up in almost the same position as previously. Graham straightens up, and then cups Adam’s cheek carefully.  
‘So,’ he says hesitantly. ‘Since Marianne and Brandon end up together, would it be all right if I kissed you? Properly this time.’ Adam pretends to consider it, and then shrugs.  
‘I suppose,’ he muses, thoroughly enjoying the nervous look on Graham’s face. ‘But can I first just say that that may be the cheesiest line to ever be spoken by a human being?’ He can see how Graham blushes, but he doesn’t seem offended.  
‘Worst than Hugh Grant?’ he wonders and Adam nods regretfully.  
‘Way worse. And also, don’t think for a second that I am going to be Marianne in this scenario, because ugh.’ Graham chuckles and strokes a gentle thumb over Adam’s cheekbone.  
‘Whatever you say, m’lady,’ Graham smiles and Adam doesn’t care about objecting, instead he grabs at the front of a very broad and tempting shirt and pulls Graham down into another kiss, and this one is nothing like the last. They move slowly at first, carefully finding a pace, but when Adam swipes his tongue across the seam of Graham’s lips he opens up hungrily. Their bodies press together, hot and vibrating, and Graham leans his free arm against the wall by Adam’s head as if to support himself. He is letting Adam take the lead, but when he nips teasingly at Graham’s bottom lip, eliciting a growl from the back of his throat, Adam doesn’t really mind at all. Graham pulls away, and Adam reaffirms his grip on his shirtfront, but then he goes lower, scraping teeth and scruff against his neck, so instead Adam only slams his head back against the dusty wall to grant better access. His scrambling hands find their way under Graham’s shirt and he scrapes his nails across the delicious masses of skin. Adam feels more than he hears the moan against his jugular and quickly needs to pull that talented mouth up to his own to quench the hunger Adam hadn’t even been completely aware he had been subject to.  
‘I bet this wasn’t what Austen had in mind when she wrote Sense and Sensibility,’ Adam mumbles into Graham’s mouth and his chuckle reverberates through the shorter man’s body.  
‘I bet you it was.’

Around the corner, four men are quietly exchanging bills and either grumbling frowns or victorious smiles.  
‘I told you Germany would do them good,’ Stephen whispers as he stuffs the euros Jed and Mark have handed him in his back pocket. Peter is doing the same while the two others are trying very hard not to listen to exactly what is going on down the hall.  
‘I hate to say it,’ Jed mutters, hands full of his pocket’s contents, all most definitely not the cash he needs, ‘but I think Dean’s plan actually worked for once. Just a shame he isn’t here to witness the fruit of his labour.’  
‘Ah well,’ Peter chimes as they make their way back to the stage to give some privacy to their friends, ‘that’s what you get for sleeping in.’

**Author's Note:**

> This cast and this ship will be the death of me. Hobbit Con changed me man.


End file.
